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“I bet I could outdrink ya, old man,” Angel’s voice rang across the lobby, cocksure and flirtatious, as always.
Lucifer looked up from the book he had been reading, cocking his brow. Alastor was standing next to Angel, his eyes narrowed and ears twitching, his smile more of a sneer as he regarded the spider.
Smiling to himself, the king carefully marked his place and set his book aside, crossing his legs and getting comfy in the overstuffed armchair he was lounging in. This was gonna be good.
Everyone (but most especially Lucifer) knew that the Radio Demon could never back down from a challenge. He was narcissistic and egotistical, especially where his pride was concerned, and besides that, Angel had said the magic word: bet.
“And what shall the wager be, my good man?” Alastor asked with a twirl of his microphone. Eerie green light began to seep into the room seemingly from nowhere as he aimed a lecherous smile at the spider.
“Ha, I already sold my soul once, Chuckles, I ain’t makin’ the mistake of doin’ it again,” Angel said, crossing all four arms across his chest and fixing the demon with a glare. “But I do have somethin’ that may interest ya.”
“Oh, do tell,” Alastor purred, his eyes lighting up with greed.
Angel leaned forward and beckoned Alastor to bend close, until his fluffy ear was pressed to Angel’s mouth. A few seconds later a record scratch snapped through the air and Angel giggled as he leaned away, patting Alastor’s shoulder as the demon quickly righted himself, looking scandalized.
“Ah, that will hardly be necessary, my dear. I have it quite in hand,” Alastor said, his usual smile looking a little wobbly on his face. “However, if there is anything else…”
Angel cocked a brow. “You sure? Cause I guarantee the unwrapping is only half the fun, and I know you know how to have fun, Smiles. Besides, wouldn’t it look so pretty wrapped around those-”
“Fine! Fine, your end of the bargain is sufficient. As for me… hmm. Whatever would you like?”
“Buy me,” Angel said, his voice devoid of emotion. “Or rent me, I suppose, the next time that Val calls me in for a shoot. ‘Course we don’t gotta do nothin’, I would just love to have a night off, all to myself, and Val will rent me out for the right price. Gotta warn you though, I’m pretty expensive,” the spider winked as he crossed his long legs and fluffed his chest.
“Ah, so I must fork over thousands of Hell dollars if I lose, and you simply give me something I could buy off of a rack in any old store?”
That piqued Lucifer’s interest. He shifted in his seat, wondering what Angel could have possibly offered Alastor, especially if it sounded like something he would wear. The demon wore the same thing every damn day: what could be so valuable to him to strike a deal for it?
“Hey, my shit is custom made, you ain’t gonna find it in no store. Besides, you were the one who said ya could outdrink anyone here. Worried ya can’t make good on all that big talk, Smiles?”
“Certainly not,” Alastor smiled, then sent his microphone off to its pocket dimension so that he could stick his hand out, offering it for Angel to shake.
“Yeah, fuck no. I think I’ll stick to good ol’ fashioned trust between friends, thank you,” Angel said, crossing his arms once more to refuse Alastor’s hand.
The Radio Demon simply shrugged as he pulled out the barstool next to Angel and hopped on, crossing his legs at the ankle primly. He smiled wide at Husk, who looked like he would rather be anywhere than behind the bar.
“Suit yourself, chum,” Alastor said merrily as Husk pulled out a bottle of liquor and warily poured them their first drink.
•
Three hours later Lucifer found himself with a lapful of very cuddly, very intoxicated Radio Demon.
Husk had taken no mercy, pulling out the good stuff almost immediately. Alastor had diligently matched Angel shot-for-shot, laughing and mocking the spider the whole time. Despite the constant goading Angel had held his own, teasing and flirting with the demon, flustering both Alastor and Husk alike with his salacious comments and soft caresses.
The competition had been neck-and-neck, Angel having the advantage of tolerance, but Alastor having the advantage of power: it took a lot of energy to produce and maintain the magic that he did, resulting in an exceptionally high metabolism that quickly burned through the liquor.
Around the fifteenth round is when the two began to slow down. Angel’s voice was becoming noticeably slurred, and Alastor kept unknowingly blaring bits and pieces of radio shows - some of which Lucifer suspected might be coming from Earth, judging by the way that Shakira’s Hips Don’t Lie suddenly rang through the lobby before quickly being cut out.
By the twentieth shot the two had pretty much lost all inhibitions. Angel had somehow planted himself on the bar, his long legs spread into a perfect split while he leaned forward into Alastor’s space, giving Husk a good view of his ass as he propped his chin on his hands and purred sweet nothings at the deer.
Alastor himself was looking a little worse for wear. One ear remained upright while the other drooped, flicking backwards seemingly at random, like he was hearing some unknown voice behind him. There was a near-constant stream of music flowing from him, different genres of songs all warbling and blending together in a disembodied jumble, slurred as much as his voice was. Slim Shady was in complete shambles, spinning on the ceiling in slowly-widening circles, his smile lopsided.
The twenty-seventh shot was what did them in. Angel completely missed his face as he tried to drink it, overshooting his aim past his cheek and over his shoulder, sending himself tipping backwards off the barstool Husk had planted him back in. He ended up collapsed on the floor, snores filtering up through the air as he promptly passed out.
“HA!” Alastor shouted, pointing down at the unconscious sinner from his own perch on another barstool. “Told you, sss- spider, you can’t out- outdrink me! I grew up on- on Mimzy’s Prohibition moonshine, bitch!”
“Yeah, you sure told him, buddy,” Lucifer said, trying to fight his smile. Alastor looked up at the sound of his voice, his smile crooked and his eyes glazed.
“Mm, mon cher,” he purred. He made to get up and stumbled, catching himself on the bar as his stool went tumbling to the ground. Slim Shady attempted to offer his master assistance but completely missed the mark, flying past Alastor and tripping (Lucifer didn’t even know it was possible for a shadow to trip, but here they were), and landing sprawled on the floor next to Angel Dust.
Meanwhile, Alastor righted himself, patting down the front of his jacket and giving himself a single self-assured nod before loopily making his way to Lucifer. The fallen angel watched him approach, speculative of his ability to make it, but nonetheless pleased when Alastor arrived to him in one piece.
“Ma petit pomme,” Alastor sighed. He reached out and tucked a strand of Lucifer’s hair behind his ear, cupping the king’s cheek with warm affection. He leaned forward, likely to try to plant a wet one on the monarch, but only succeeded in collapsing face-first into Lucifer’s lap.
“Oof!” Lucifer exclaimed, the breath being driven from his lungs as Alastor’s complete body weight suddenly landed squarely across him. “Alastor!”
“Say my name again,” the demon whined, rubbing his face like a cat against Lucifer’s thigh. “Nnngh, love it when you say my name.”
“This can’t be comfortable for you,” Lucifer grumbled, pointedly ignoring Alastor’s request. He took in how the sinner’s long body was only half in the chair, everything from the waist-down dangling over the edge of it, his hips draped across the arm and his ass in the air. Nonetheless Alastor had his arms wrapped securely around Lucifer’s legs, nuzzling against them and humming contentedly. “We should get you to bed, mister big winner.”
“Winner, winner, chicken dinner,” Alastor slurred into Lucifer’s thigh. The king winced when he felt the dampness of Alastor’s drool creeping through the fabric of his pants.
“Yes, that’s right. Chicken dinner,” Lucifer hummed as he struggled against Alastor’s weight, trying to get him propped upright. “Help me out here, big buck. You’re heavier than you look.”
“Don’ like chicken. Gimme deer,” the sinner whined petulantly.
“Everyone likes chicken, silly.”
“Not me. Like… like deer. Or your ass. I like that.”
“Jesus,” Lucifer hissed through gritted teeth, glancing up towards the bar quickly. Luckily, Husk seemed entirely absorbed in dragging a still-unconscious Angel off towards the elevators.
“I also like your… mm, blood. And your tears. Oh, and those little blood cakes that Charlie brings back from the - hic - bakery. But ass. Ass is best.”
“Would you shut up?” Lucifer asked, rolling his eyes in fond exacerbation. Using a little of his angelic strength he gave the sinner a shove, sending him up and off his lap. Alastor groaned loudly in annoyance when he was sent standing (or rather, swaying), on his feet. “Come on, let’s get you to bed. Think you can walk?”
“Nope,” Alastor said, and then, like the giant baby he was, he folded his legs beneath him and sank to the floor, crossing his arms over his chest in defiance.
“Oh, for the love of-” Lucifer breathed out through his nose, pinching the bridge of it in a bid for patience. “Fine. If you’re going to act like a toddler, I’ll treat you like a toddler.”
With that he stood up and bent over, seizing Alastor around his waist. The sinner let out a startled shout when Lucifer straightened up, slinging his body across his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Alastor was long enough (or, Lucifer was short enough, though he adamantly refused to think that way) that his face was square with Lucifer’s ass, the tips of his boots nearly brushing against the king’s as he strode towards the stairs.
“There, not so much to say now, huh? Why, you’re- OW! Alastor!”
The demon giggled loudly as he released Lucifer’s asscheek from between his sharp teeth. “Told you. Ass is best.”
“You’re so going to get it tomorrow, hangover or not,” Lucifer grumbled, delivering a sharp smack to Alastor’s ass in retaliation as he began to ascend the staircase. He probably could have portaled, but sometimes stepping from one space into another so suddenly could make people feel a bit dizzy, and he would really rather not have Alastor puking all down his back.
The demon hummed a jaunty tune as Lucifer carried him through the hotel and up to their shared room. To his immense relief they didn’t run into any other residents on the way there. Though he didn’t really care what people thought about them, he knew Alastor would care if someone saw him like this, slung over the king’s shoulder like a damsel in distress. Better to avoid the storm and ultimate property damage that would surely result from an embarrassed Radio Demon.
When they got to their room Lucifer kicked open the door, striding across the space and depositing Alastor onto the bed gruffly. There came the screech of feedback as the demon bounced on the mattress, his limbs flailing outwards as he fought to right himself. He didn’t get very far, and after a minute of squirming around he gave up, flopping like a starfish across the sheets.
“Is this where you tear off my clothes and ravish me, sire?” he slurred as he stared intently at the canopy above him.
“No. There’ll be no ravishing while you’re drunk,” Lucifer said as he set about pulling off Alastor’s boots.
“But that’s how it goes in the romance novels.”
“Since when do you read romance novels?”
Alastor shrugged as Lucifer tackled his socks, peeling them off of his cute little hooves and tossing them aside. “Niffty lets me borrow ‘em sometimes. Where do you think I learned that- that move last week?”
The fallen angel glanced up, surprised. Alastor had done this… thing with his tongue while he was sucking him off the other day, one of the best damn things Lucifer had ever felt, making him see stars. He was impressed. Whoever was out there writing those books really knew their shit.
“Well, in that case, read away, babycakes,” he declared, crawling up onto the bed and snuggling into Alastor’s arms. The sinner was still fully dressed, but Lucifer was far too tired to try to get his clothes off of him. Besides, the last thing he needed was the drunken demon pawing at him, demanding to be ravished or whatever the fuck.
Instead he simply sighed sleepily as Alastor slung an uncoordinated arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. Sometime later, as Lucifer drifted steadily closer to sleep, Alastor’s voice suddenly broke the silence.
“Lucifer?”
“Hmm?”
“Will you… pet my ears?”
The fallen angel smiled against Alastor’s chest. If that wasn’t confirmation that the demon truly was drunk off his ass, he didn’t know what was. He was always so prissy about his ears.
“‘Course, honey,” he whispered back, shifting around so that he could reach up and thread his fingers through Alastor’s soft hair, taking one ear between his thumb and forefinger and stroking upwards lightly. Alastor shivered and nudged his head further into Lucifer’s hold, sighing contentedly. A warbly lullaby started to play, soft and barely there in the stillness of the room.
“By the way… what did you win from Angel for outdrinking him?” Lucifer asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.
“Oh,” the sinner mumbled. “Some negligee, I believe. Red, which has always been your colour. The spider said it would make your ass look good enough to eat.”
“Not that you need any prompting, apparently,” Lucifer said with a roll of his eyes, though he could feel a light blush dusting his cheeks.
“Mm, no. But they say you eat with your eyes, and Angel Dust painted a very descriptive picture.”
“I’m sure. You know, I still think you should pay to get him that night off.”
Alastor cracked his eye open at that, peeking at Lucifer dazedly. “But I won. Why should I have to pay if I won?”
“I dunno, ‘cause you’re trying to be a better person? Redemption and all that jazz,” Lucifer said, removing his hand from the demon’s ear to jazz it above his smiling face.
“Ugh, fine. You should know that you will owe me for this,” his eye slipped closed once more, a clear indicator that he was done with the conversation.
“Of course,” Lucifer said graciously, his chest feeling light and a smile tugging at his lips. He settled back down and continued rubbing Alastor’s ears.
A few moments later, Alastor began to softly snore, his mouth dropping open slightly and his ears twitching beneath Lucifer’s fingers. Lucifer smiled, warmth building in his chest as he watched Alastor sleep, the affection he felt for his sinner threatening to burst through his ribs with its intensity.
“How do you make loving you so easy?” Lucifer whispered into the darkness of the room, safe in the knowledge that the demon couldn’t hear him.
He shivered hard as he said his whispered question, goosebumps racing up and down his arms. He hadn’t said that word to a single soul besides Lilith and Charlie in all of his long existence, but he knew, deep in the very core of him, right down to his damaged grace, that it was true.
He didn’t care if Alastor didn’t feel the same. What they had now was perfect just the way it was, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything, not even the chance to ascend back to Heaven.
Who needed those angelic pricks anyway, when Lucifer had his own little slice of the divine right here?